


Night

by peanutbutterandbananasandwichs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, mentions of sam x brady, mentions of sam x jess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3132182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutbutterandbananasandwichs/pseuds/peanutbutterandbananasandwichs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to the prompt "Sam + Night". What night means to Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night

Night is the sound of harsh, broken sobs, lying awake in the dark, with the name of the mother you’ll never know being pulled with every shuddering cry from your father’s lips.

Eventually it becomes the crash of the motel room door and the dull thud an hour later of a body collapsing into the neighbouring bed, and you’re not quite sure when one became the other.

It’s half caught whispers about things that make no sense and the sound of fear in your brother’s voice that he tries to hide when the door bursts open or slams shut again. It’s waking up in a different bed to the one you fell asleep in and no-one will tell you why.

And when you find out, it becomes biting your bottom lip against sleep, clutching the blade your dad bought you for your birthday beneath the pillow, a silent litany running through your head, bring them home safe, whole, alive. And too soon, it’s you out there, still clutching the knife, but there’s another two weighing down your pocket and a gun that’s still too heavy, the kickback still able to nearly knock you off your feet, strapped in a holster at your hip. And it’s just you between your brother’s prone body and the shifter that threw him halfway across the room.

Doing your homework under the bedclothes with a torch because “people are dying” and the family business comes first.

Filling out forms and paperwork and staying up all night with five study guides, a pile of notes that threatens to fall on your head and too many cups of coffee because you can’t afford to sleep, can’t afford to fail.

Lying awake overwhelmed with joy and excitement and cold, hard dread. Wondering “how will you tell them?”.

But before you know it, it’s done, and now it’s back to study guides and notes and too many cups of coffee. But there’s also friends who come and sit on your bed and talk all night, or drag you out to a party, with a cry of “geez Sam relax for 5 seconds dude”. And there’s the boy with the soft voice and the kind smile who somehow works his way from your dreams to your bed, until something takes him from you and the kind smile turns cruel.

Eventually though there’s another body, soft and warm, long limbs tangled up with your’s, pressed snugly up against your back, long blonde tresses smelling of honey that fall across your face and tickle your nose and the whispered “I love you’s” you trade back and forth in the dark. And if sometimes there are flames and the sound of screams, you tell yourself it’s just a dream as you draw her closer to you.

After there are still flames and screams but now there’s the smell of blackened flesh caught in your nostrils and the taste of thick oily smoke caught in your lungs and you can’t breath. Jolting awake and trying desperately not to wake your brother in the next bed with the sound of the wretched sob that breaks forth unbidden from your throat and reminds you so cruelly of the ones you heard from your father back when you were small.


End file.
